The Woman in White
by boldlikeblack
Summary: Lycanthropy isn't the Lockwood family's only secret.


**Disclaimer:**** How many times must I say I don't own the Vampire Diaries? If I did, there would be much Delena and Jyler, with some Jenson (Jenna x Mason, fyi) for good measure.**

**A/N:**** I know, I know...I shouldn't be starting a new story when I'm working on Cursed, or when I've promised my Glee-ers that I'll be heading into an epic sequel sometime this month, but this popped into my head and I couldn't resist.**

**Jyler friendship and mystery hijinx will ensue, with escalating slashy subtext if my audience demands it. There will also be lots of Damon, flashbacks to 1864, and touches of Jenson because it makes me happy (sorry Ric...I still love you and your awesome arsenal of toys). This starts after 'Kill or Be Killed' and goes A/U from there.**

**Let me know if you enjoy!**

**BBB**

Tyler Lockwood had very few certainties in his life. He was certain he was handsome; many nights intimately spent with beautiful girls had assured him of it. He was certain that his father was an asshole; years of watching other kids' parents show them love and affection had taught him that particularly harsh lesson. He was also certain that he knew every secret nook and cranny in every inch of the Lockwood mansion, which had been in his family almost since the founding of Mystic Falls.

The last thing he ever expected when his mother asked him to take a box of his father's things to the attic was to find a door, hidden behind an old wooden chest. Tyler wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't tripped of his great-uncle's ridiculous moose head and ended up on his knees, trying to put all of his dad's crap back into the box. He was at just the right angle to notice the light hitting the old, dusty brass doorknob.

It wasn't a big door; it didn't even make it halfway up the attic wall. There was something distinctly creepy about it, something that made alarms in the back of Tyler's brain ring to the tune of 'Do Not Touch'. But nobody had ever accused Tyler of being smart.

When he pushed the chest out of the way, Tyler was amazed at the concentration of cobwebs across the door. The attic was cleaned twice a year and Tyler's mother was always so particular about it. She checked to make sure nothing had been taken because someone got it into his or her head that no one would notice. It made him wonder if it had something to do with the way his body fought him when he reached for the doorknob. His had to push with all his strength just to put his palm on the knob. Even then, Tyler had to force his hand to turn. It was like there was something compelling him not to open it.

The first thing he noticed when he opened the door, barely even a sliver, hardly a crack, was the smell. It was weird, like an old folks' home, but almost like it was just there to cover up something else. His nose itched, almost painfully and Tyler wanted to stop. He wanted to shut the door and go back downstairs and forget he ever found it because it shouldn't even be there, but he couldn't because it challenged one of the few things he was certain about in life. He had to know.

Tyler had to stoop to get through the door, since the top was level was level with his chest. Points of white light exploded behind his eyes as he crossed the doorframe and it brought him to his knees, for the second time in one day. The spots cleared and Tyler's nose felt wet. When he wiped it, his fingers came away bloody. There was something wrong with this place, with this little room, tucked away where there should be nothing. He wanted to leave, but he had to stay.

The room was unlike any in the house. It was soft...and...feminine. The floor was wood, like the rest of the house, but there was a worn, round, sort of white rug in the middle of it. It was weird. Tyler's mother threw things away when they were worn out or she had them 'repurposed' and donated to charity. The wallpaper looked like something out of a little girl's room, with light purple and white stripes and little flowers. Tyler could get to the window if he walked in an L-shape from the door, which meant it had to be one of the attic windows you could see from the front of the house, but he couldn't remember seeing lacy curtains on any of the windows when he looked up. There was a rocking chair with a little table beside it. There were some old picture frames on the table, but that wasn't what captured Tyler's attention.

A large wrought iron bed dominated the room. It was nearly identical to the one in the guest room on the main floor, where Tyler's mother often displayed day to day items from the 1800s during Founders' events. Of course, no one ever slept in the guest room. It was only for show. That was not the case with this bed.

From where he stood by the door Tyler had a clear view of the bed's occupant. It was a girl, probably no older than Tyler himself. Her long, dark hair curled over her shoulders and spread across the pillow like a halo. Her skin was colourless; not pale, really, but without the pinkness that healthy skin should have had. Her arms, adorned in white cotton sleeves, were crossed over her stomach and her hands were folded one on top of the other.

It should have been creepy, like a scene out of a horror movie where the monster is a possessed doll or a crazy old lady in a wedding dress, but it wasn't. The air wasn't stale. The room wasn't musty. Aside from the weirdness when he came in the door, Tyler felt...comfortable.

Curious, Tyler walked to the side of the bed to take a closer look at the girl. She was pretty. Not beautiful, but pretty. She was kind of sweet looking, with long dark eyelashes and dark, arching brows, in a way that reminded Tyler of Caroline. Around her neck, lying on top of the ruffles of her cotton nightgown, was an antique chain with a moonstone the size of Tyler's thumbnail in a dark grey setting. Fascinated, Tyler brushed his fingers over it.

Instantly, a wave of calm settled over him and Tyler felt lighter than he had in his entire life. Without thinking, he sat in the rocking chair and took one of the girl's hands in his own. His vision went wavy and he sucked in a breath as their skin touched. It felt nice, almost like he was coming home after a long time of being away. It was like it didn't matter that his dad was dead, or that his mom was a drunk, or that his Uncle Mason was some kind of Animal Planet freakshow that Tyler could one day become. It didn't matter, because whoever she was, she would take care of him and everything would be fine.

The thought shook Tyler from his stupor and he dropped her hand as if it had burned him. He jumped out of the rocking chair and took a wary step back from the bed. Tyler stared at her fingers, hanging limply over the side of the bed. He wanted to go, but it was wrong to leave her like that. Quickly, only touching the corner of her sleeve, Tyler lifted the girl's arm and placed her hand back where it had been before, on top of the other one.

"Uh...sorry," he mumbled, as he turned to go. Unfortunately, Tyler bumped his knee on the rocking chair, which started to rock and knocked one of the picture frames off the little table and onto the floor. He scrambled to pick it up, turning it over with the intention of checking it for cracks before nearly dropping it again.

Staring back at him, out of the photo frame, where a bunch of teenagers wearing clothes from the Civil War. None of them were smiling, of course, no one smiled in pictures back then. The girl in the bed was at the center of the group. Behind her was a tall young man that reminded Tyler of his Uncle Mason. To one side, there was a pretty blond girl and a boy who both sort of resembled Sheriff Forbes, as well as an unfortunate looking guy who looked a lot like that Logan Fell asshole who used to be on TV. Behind those three, huddled in the back was a young man with broad shoulders and puppy-dog eyes that screamed 'I'm a Gilbert'. The big shocker, however, was on the girls other side. Standing next to her, with longer hair and stuffy suits, were Damon and Stefan Salvatore.


End file.
